Dollhouse
by Switchblade27
Summary: "They laughed all through the night. And well into the next morning." Mister J and Raggedy Jan, criminal mastermind and grave robber extraordinaire bust out of Arkham Asylum. Joker x OC Rated T as there will probably some mild, or more than mild gore later on.
1. Damnit, Janet

Chapter One: Damnit, Janet

"Police walk in for Jimmy Jazz!" Her voice was piercing and loud, screamy, and it was exactly as she wanted to sound. She could sound pretty enough if she wanted to. Of course, she didn't want to. "I said he ain't here but, he sure went past, police come looking for Jimmy Jazz Jazz Jazz!"

The prisoner's step quickened, white rubber soles against white linoleum floors. When he reached the cell, the woman sprung down from the top bunk onto her hands, then collapsed into a tangled heap of limbs on the floor. She then proceeded to raise herself onto her two feet, and with balance already compromised, took an exaggerated bow. She looked like a limp rag doll.

"Doctor Arkham!" she exclaimed in a poorly masked falsetto. "What a pleasant surprise! Oh, you've brought company, how sweet." The man beside Dr. Arkham, who was clad in the customary orange jumpsuit, turned his head away in mock bashfulness. The sheepish grin was unnecessary, as he already had one painted onto his face.

"Now, normally we don't let patients of your condition room together, especially patients of the opposite-" the girl let out a fake laugh and the prisoner next to Dr. Arkham shot her a wink "-sex, but due to recent budget cuts, we've had to close down the old cell block where you've been staying," he continued, turning towards the prisoner next to him, "and you two were the only patients with such a clean record while in Arkham Asylum that we trusted with anyone else."

The prisoner nodded furiously, greenish hair whipping back and forth. The girl, who sat sprawled out on the floor, yawned.

"If there's any sign of a disturbance, the aggressor will be transferred to another hospital. And trust me, most hospitals for the criminally insane aren't as nice as this one."

With that, the muscular guard that had been restraining the prisoner tossed him into the cell and pulled the door closed with a slam. Dr. Arkham strutted away, coattails fluttering.

"Janet Jackie Jones," the girl announced as she rose to her feet. "But it's Raggedy Jan to you. And to everyone." She extended a hand.

"The Joker," the prisoner introduced, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. He noted her lack of fingernails, and she noted that his were digging into her palm and causing part of it to bleed.

"Splendid to meet you, Mister J," she replied, hopping up to the top bunk using only one rung of the eight on the ladder. The Joker sat down, then jumped back up with a hissed "Damnit, Janet."  
"Sorry," muttered the embarrassed girl. "That's my shank collection. They always looked under the mattress, so I started stuffing them in. You can take them out if you like. Just hand them to me."

"No, no, I love the feeling of knives in my flesh when I sleep. Hey-" he paused "-can I call you RJ?"

Long, vividly red curls came toppling down from the top bunk as she tossed her head back with an aggressive nod. She wasn't sure if he was serious about the weapons, but she liked the way RJ felt on her tongue as she mouthed it to herself. For a second, The Joker thought her head would fall off. So much fun could be had with a head, he thought.

The Joker looked around, scanning the grey cement brick walls for any irregularities. All he saw was a couple of black and white photographs of RJ and a fair haired man in an old 1967 Impala.

"Who's this?" he asked, voice slightly gruffer than usual, as he tapped a dirty fingernail on the man's face. RJ hopped down from the top bunk, and sank down gingerly onto the weaponized mattress.

"My boyfriend. James Gazzelli. We all called him Jimmy Jazz."

"Boyfriend?" The Joker cocked his head to the side and gave her a quizzical glance.

"He's dead now. I killed him by accident, during a job."

"Speaking of which," the Joker started, failing to hide his slight lisp, "what are you in for?"

"Four counts of first degree murder, 28 of grand theft, 13 of petty theft, and 46 of grave desecration."

"Grave desecration?" The Joker couldn't help but grin.

"Yeah, I was a grave robber. Sold a ton of body parts on the black market, mostly to the hoodoo crowd, some small time cannibals. I sold other stuff too, anything I could get my hands on. Ever heard of a guy called Bones who sold internationally?"

"He sent me the spores for that fungal infection I set loose in Gotham Daycare!" The Joker exclaimed with delight. He sat down cross legged on the floor in front of RJ. "Good times," he continued with a laugh. "Good times."

"That was James. He handled all the trades. I did most of the dirty work."

RJ pushed the hair that covered one eye behind her pointed, elf like ear, and revealed a murky blue eye in perfect contrast with her other eye, which was a pale olive.

"How'd you get your eyes like that?"

"I was born like this," she said, blood swimming to the apples of her cheeks as she distractedly began to braid a piece of hair on the side.

"They're beautiful," the Joker mumbled under his breath.

"How'd you get your mouth like that?" RJ slumped down onto the floor and sat cross legged like a mirror of her fellow prisoner.

"In all honesty," the Joker began with a sigh, "I don't know. It's been like this for as long as I can remember." The Joker let his tongue roll slowly over his painted lips. "I don't think I was born like this, though."

RJ reached out and gently touched the end of his scar, then drew back, as if she was afraid he would bite. The Joker noted her disproportionate hands and short fingernails.

For a few minutes, they sat there quietly, staring at each other as if they were art. After a while, RJ lifted one eyebrow and furrowed the other. Slowly, her large front teeth made their way over her lip, making her look like a skeptical rabbit.

The Joker widened his eyes and began to flare his nostrils in response. In an attempt to contain her laughter, RJ let out a swine like snort, and the Joker began to chuckle. RJ's laugh was the kind that sounded faked, it was shrill and high pitched. RJ and the Joker's laughs turned to roars, the kind of laughter that could be heard down the whole cell block, and as more and more inmates chided them, the harder they laughed.

They laughed all through the night. And well into the next morning.


	2. It's PassFail

Chapter Two: It's Pass/Fail

"Mister J, meet Snare and Officer Fubar." RJ slid her tray down the table and caught it again before it hit the ground.

The two young women across from RJ and the Joker gave him a nod of recognition, and continued chewing in silence.

"Wanna talk about lichens?" RJ offered spontaneously.

The girl RJ called Officer Fubar looked up, revealing moon shaped hazel eyes under her dirty blonde bangs. Her hair was short, and had a professional look about it.

"Stop being weird, Rags," she sighed, and then continued chewing.

"I don't like this one," The Joker whispered.

"You will eventually. But check it out."

Unpeeling her spork from the plastic wrapper and pushing back bad memories from 2nd grade, RJ placed it on the table and fastidiously dropped a single kernel of corn onto the end. With a dramatic slap, she pressed down onto the spork, and the kernel of corn was launched directly into the already annoyed woman's eye.

"Fine. I'll talk, but no more corn catapults."

RJ grinned and playfully elbowed the clown beside her in the ribs.

"So how's life?" The Joker asked with an inquisitive pout.

"Well, we're confined in tiny cells, I don't have a decent drumset, and orange is totally not my color," Snare cut in, pulling her explosion of long dark curls behind her ears.

"At least the food's free," The Joker offered. RJ giggled, exposing crooked, yellowing teeth.

"Do you even brush your teeth?" The short haired girl asked.

"Everyday, with Coke."

As The Joker began to laugh, it was evident that his teeth were in the same, if not worse condition.

"Hilarious."

Without warning, a tall woman appeared behind them. She had long, dark brown hair that rounded at the end by her waist, and short bangs that curved like ribbon candy. Her pale skin was covered in an oversized lab coat that draped loosely around her lean frame. Sheer stockings, patterned in lace up the sides streamlined her long legs. At the end were a pair of white high top Converse, with Sailor Jerry style pinup girls on the outside of each shoe.

"I'm looking for a Janet Raegerfirth?" Her voice was soft and smooth, and barely audible.

RJ smiled at up at her, and winked her blue eye.

"You're coming with me. Monthly psych eval."

RJ glanced at her bare wrist, then held it up to the woman.

"But it isn't even 12:30!" She whined, sticking out her lower lip and widening her eyes.

"Are you going to come with me or am I going to have to have you escorted by guards?"

RJ stood up, and the woman began striding swiftly out of the cafeteria. RJ stuck her tongue out at the back of the woman's head, but followed all the same.

"My name's Dr. Scott," the woman told RJ once they were alone.

RJ fidgeted in the metal chair. No one was guarding the room. I could kill her, RJ thought, and not have to go through any of this.

"Before you try anything, I'd like you to know that if you prove to be a problem here, they'll ship you off to federal prison."

RJ leaned back and sighed.

"I hope you fail," Dr. Scott whispered, as she pulled out a clipboard and began to write RJ's future.

* * *

"So that Snare girl really kidnapped all her bandmates?"

"She said they didn't take her seriously because she was just a drummer," RJ explained.

"And the other girl?"

"She got tired of being a cop after what's his name took office."  
The Joker grinned.

"You've made some good friends, haven't you?"

RJ nodded.

"How about that, um, psychological evaluation?" The Joker asked, stretching out the syllables like taffy. "How'd that go?"

"I'm still crazy," RJ answered, holding up her hands to her face. Her sleeves were pulled past her hands, and she giggled, like a giddy schoolchild.

"Which means they're not sending you off to federal prison? Smashing," the Joker congratulated. "We ought to celebrate."


End file.
